


Somewhere Without Hurting

by warmommy



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: Original Tumblr prompt: Kissing prompt: in the moonlight and relief with Wicki♡Wicki is melancholy, reader is worried, and Hugo is painfully overprotective.





	Somewhere Without Hurting

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!

Wicki had volunteered for extra watches again, and most would have been able to tell he hadn’t been sleeping much, anyway. He was a quiet and nervous sort, but the unfortunate circumstance was that most everyone averted their eyes to trouble. Trouble bred chaos, and not a single Basterd wanted to invite any more chaos into their group than already existed. When Donny kept on beating a corpse long after it was dead, they looked the other way. When Hirschberg stared at the fire looking like a hollow tree, they looked the other way. When Wicki got dark circles under his eyes and spoke even less than usual, they looked away.

It was the sort of thing that ate away at you, a guilt like rats clawing through your stomach. Donny needed help, Hirschberg needed help, everyone did, but Wicki…You had the unshakeable feeling, especially on this night, he was on the precipice of emergency. Something wrong was hanging in the air, and you lay awake in your bedroll, just as he was awake, twenty feet away, sitting by the embers of the campsite fire. 

You sat up slowly, so as not to alarm him, make him reach for a gun. Nearby, Hugo, sensing in his sleep that his charge had stirred, made a growling, snarling noise, but he turned over rather than wake himself.

“Move aside,” you said to the large Austrian. You didn’t see he and Donny standing side by side often, so it was common to forget he was equally massive. “Scoot, you big, moving shape.”

“I wasn’t moving,” he pointed out, but scooted down along the overturned log anyway, still bent over his knees, hands propped up there, supine. Staring at them with those dark, tired, sad eyes.

You cleared your throat and made coffee in tin cups, handed one to him. Gradually, as the minutes passed, a small smile touched his face. He reached out, placed one huge hand on your shoulder. The two of you watched the moon, watched the fire, watched for rustling in the surrounding hedges, over silent cups of coffee. The moon was glowing, but there was little starlight, strangely. Everything in camp seemed so dark, no faces discernible, but the fire light every angle of Wicki’s jaws, cheekbones, his lips, his nose.

“I’m sorry to ask this,” you said, breaking the quiet like a shattered window. “Did someone…pass?”

He looked at you strangely, then shrugged and shook his head. 

“I only mean…”

“I know what you mean,” he said, voice the perfect mix of rough and smooth, dark, soft fabric stretched over gravel. His accent became noticeable. One of his boots began to move, shift about a little as he thought, his eyes mostly on the fire. He shrugged again. “It is a difficult time to be alone.”

Strangely, you felt the bitter pricking sting of needles behind your eyes. Such a rich voice, melancholy and distant. Such stark, cutting words, summoning the brief flash of Aldo’s knife as an image in your mind. Then your knife. Then his. This was just unacceptable, you thought, decided. He mustn’t feel lonely. Wilhelm Wicki should not be allowed to be lonely.

You put your hand on his knee and edged just a bit closer to him on the log. When he turned his head just slightly to look at you, to see why you’d touched him, you pressed your lips against his. Dry, chapped, tasting of bad, burnt coffee.

Ten years seemed to come off him, genuine relief softening all those angles you’d see on his face, before. It looked like he was going to kiss you, now, but he stopped himself. “Y/N…” Wicki’s fingertips just barely edged around your hand on his leg. “I want more than simply not being alone.”

With a subtle nod, you agreed, and closed the gap between you, stealing that second kiss. A relieved sound, a dark, resonant hum. Warm arms tucked around your body. The first twinkles of starlight you’d seen all night. 

Twenty feet away, a stirring, an angry, clipped, heavily accented voice. “Wilhelm, what are you doing to Y/N?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find this and a lot more at my tumblr, warmommy.tumblr.com!


End file.
